Then suddenly Cesare seemed to lose interest in Sanchia.
His father sent for him because Alexander had some matter of importance to discuss, and he was finding that it was with Cesare rather than with his cherished Giovanni that he wished to discuss matters of policy.
“My dear son,” said Alexander, taking Cesare into his arms and kissing him, “there is a matter of some importance which I wish to discuss with you.”
It delighted the Pope to see the frown on his son’s face fade at such words.
“It is of Lucrezia’s husband, this man Sforza that I wish to speak,” said the Pope.
Cesare’s lip curled in disgust and Alexander went on: “Your opinion of the man coincides with my own.”
“It has caused me great grief,” replied Cesare, “to think of my sister’s spending her days in that remote town, far away from us all … and Your Holiness giving him orders which he does not obey. I would that we could rid Lucrezia of the oaf.”
“It is to discuss this matter that I have called you to me now. Cesare, I wish this to be a closely guarded secret.”
“Between us two?” asked Cesare eagerly.
“Between us two.”
“And Giovanni?”
“No, Cesare, no. I would not even trust Giovanni with this. Giovanni is light-hearted and not as serious minded as you are, Cesare. I wish this to be a matter closely guarded, so that is why I choose to confide in you.”
“Thank you, Most Holy Lord.”
“My dearest son, I am determined to rid my daughter of that man.”
“And the means?”
“There is divorce, but divorce is not beloved of the Church; and as the Head of the Church I am expected to frown on it except in special circumstances.”
“Your Holiness would prefer another method?”
Alexander nodded.
“It should not be impossible,” said Cesare, his eyes shining. He was thinking, it had been sad to know that Virginio must die, but there would be no such sadness where Giovanni Sforza was concerned.
“Our first move,” said the Pope, “would be to recall him to Rome.”
“Then let us make it.”
“Easier said than done, my son. The provincial lord entertains certain suspicions regarding us.”
“My poor Lucrezia, how she must suffer!”
“I am not sure of that, Cesare. Her letters would seem to grow more distant. Sometimes I feel that the Lord of Pesaro is taking our Lucrezia away from us, that she is becoming more of a wife to him than a daughter to me or a sister to you.”
“It shall not be. He will rob her of her charm. He will make her dull … insipid as he is. We must bring her back, Father.”
The Pope nodded. “And Sforza with her. And when they come …” The Pope hesitated, and Cesare prompted him: “And when they come, Holiness?”
“We will disarm him with our friendship. That will be the first step, Cesare. We will tell him by our words, gestures and deeds that we are no longer estranged from him. He is the spouse of our dearest one, and as such we will love him.”
“ ’Twill be a hard task,” said Cesare grimly.
“Not when you remember to what it is leading us.”
“When we have his confidence, we will ask him to a banquet,” mused Cesare. “He will not die at once. His shall be a lingering death.”
“You shall introduce him to the embrace of cantarella.”
“With the utmost pleasure,” said Cesare.
So to Rome came Lucrezia and with her rode her husband. Giovanni Sforza was reluctant; he grumbled continually throughout the journey.
“What do your family plan now? Why have they become so friendly toward me? I do not trust them.”
“Oh, Giovanni, you are too distrustful. It is because they have so much regard for me, because they are delighted to see me as a happy wife, that they offer you their friendship.”
“I warn you I shall be wary,” declared Giovanni.
He was surprised by his reception.
The Pope embraced him, called him his beloved son, and said that as the husband of Lucrezia he was entitled to a high position at the Papal Court. Never had Giovanni enjoyed such prestige as he did during those weeks. He began to lose his fears. When all is considered, he told himself, I am Lucrezia’s husband, and Lucrezia is well satisfied with me.
He confided in a certain retainer of his whom he liked to take with him wherever he went, for he felt that Giacomino, his handsome young chamberlain, was one of the few people whom he could trust.
“My lord,” said Giacomino, “it appears that you are well received here, but have a care, oh my lord. They say that it is unwise to eat rashly at the Borgia table.”
“I have heard such rumors.”
“Remember the sudden death of Virginio Orsini, my lord.”
“I think of it.”
“My lord, it would please me if you ate food prepared only by me.”
That made Giovanni laugh; but there were few people who had such a true affection for him as Giacomino had, and he knew it; he laid an affectionate arm about his servant’s shoulders.
“Fret not, Giacomino,” he said. “I can take good care of myself.”
He told Lucrezia of Giacomino’s anxieties.
“They are groundless,” Lucrezia assured him. “My father has taken you into the family circle. He knows that you and I can be happy together. But Giacomino is a good fellow, Giovanni; and I am glad he feels so deeply for you.”
And in the weeks which followed, Giovanni Sforza acquired a new air of confidence.
I can make Lucrezia happy, he thought; and the Pope loves his daughter so dearly that he is ready to bless any who can do that. He began to believe that he had exaggerated rumor and that the Borgias were merely a family who, with the exception of Giovanni and Cesare, were particularly devoted to one another.
Carnival time came round again, and the Borgias found the revels irresistible. The Pope, watching the scenes from his balcony, called his applause for the lewdness, and gave his blessing at the same time. There had never been a man who was able to mingle his love for the lewd and the pious so happily together; there was never a man more ready to take his religion in a merry way. At carnival times, more than any other, the people were satisfied with their Holy Father.
Giovanni Sforza disliked the carnival, was embarrassed by the lewd scenes which were enacted and, finding no pleasure in the coarse jokes, he was already homesick for Pesaro.
He did not want to go out and mingle with the crowds in the streets, so Lucrezia went with her brothers and Sanchia, some of their men and Sanchia’s and Lucrezia’s women.
It was Giovanni Borgia’s idea that they should dress as mummers and mingle more freely with the crowds.
This seemed great fun to Lucrezia who, unlike her husband, delighted in the gaiety of Rome and certainly did not sigh for quiet Pesaro.
Sanchia had decided to give her attention to Giovanni in order to arouse Cesare’s anger, and Giovanni was nothing loth; in their mummers’ dresses, masks hiding their faces, they danced through the streets, Sanchia and Giovanni leading the troupe, dancing in the Spanish manner, suggestively, and going through the motions of courtship to an end which seemed inevitable.
But Cesare was not thinking of Sanchia at this moment; he had plans which concerned Giovanni, but he was shelving those, for more pressing ones concerning another Giovanni obsessed him at this moment. Moreover Lucrezia was with him, and his lust for Sanchia had never been as great as his love for his little sister.
He could lash himself into a fury now, not because Sanchia was behaving amorously with Giovanni, but by thinking of Lucrezia’s life with Sforza.